Two Mercenaries
by Lord Onisyr
Summary: Killing a wizard and capturing the humanoid he resurrected was supposed to be a routine job for Artemis Entreri, though when his captured quarry is Earth's greatest detective and severely out of his element, things can only get interesting.
1. The Awakening

**Two Mercenaries**

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters and settings from Forgotten Realms are the property of R.A. Salvatore/Wizards of the Coast and all recognizable characters and settings from Death Note are the property of Tsugumi Ohba, Takeshi Obata, and Viz Media.

Author's Note: This is a crossover between Forgotten Realms and Death Note, though more of a stranger-in-a-strange-land tale taking place in the FR universe. This also connected to the alternate FR timeline I created in my fic Legend of the Phoenix Brothers as well as the background story I created for L (so any first name or other information from his non-canon past is my creation only.)

This is more of a play fic and does not really have a grand plot (yet at least), so updating this might be slow and please don't take what happens here too seriously. Any constructive comments are appreciated.

**Chapter 1: The Awakening**

"So for what reason would you want this man dead?"

It had become Entreri's standard question for all potential clients.

In olden days a certain partner of his would be asking that question and Entreri would be waiting for the price and the basic details of his target. Eventually he learned the practicality of that question, especially with clients like this.

Adolfus of the Third Order furrowed his neatly trimmed eyebrows at the question, one side of his curling moustache going up in an annoyed grimace as he tapped his emerald ring against the side of his desk.

"Is Artemis Entreri a moral assassin?" the high mage asked.

It was the kind of annoyance that came with some guilt for calling on an assassin's services, though any hesitation was nonexistent.

"No, a cautious one," Entreri said. "When I leave here with my coin and my orders, I cannot be called back so your mind had well have been made up. That and I take extra caution with any matters involving grudges between wizards; I will not be a shield or a tool for anyone."

Adolfus carefully adjusted his position in his seat, though Entreri saw a shiver. His black eyes remained fixed on the high mage, though his expression was calm.

"Understandable," the high mage said. "The answer to your question is a bit complicated though it will be part of my instructions."

"I'm listening," Entreri said.

His concentration was momentarily broken by the sight of a creature scurrying across the desk. Entreri looked to the side to see a small, green creature with leathery skin and short limbs carefully walk to Adolfus with a few squeaks.

Adolfus reached into his desk and produced some dead flies, holding one out for his homunculus to gently take with its toothy mouth.

"As I said in my initial communication, your intended target is a human wizard formally of the Third Order," Adolfus said. "This individual is named Rylan Marn, though he goes by the name of Rylan the Blue. His specialty is evocation but he is well skilled in necromancy. Rylan was one of the high mages of our order actually, a close peer of mine, until his magical interests turned a bit more unorthodox.

"He took a sabbatical from the order in 1388 with the reason that he wanted to take a rest from his duties and learn some more spells. What we learned was that he had fallen into the worship of Shar. I assume you know what that black goddess' purpose is."

"Darkness, revenge, the Void, the embodiment of wickedness, something like that," Entreri rattled off, looking a little bored with the turn of the conversation and wanting to get back to the point. This wasn't a quiz, this was business.

"Exactly," Adolfus said, flinching a little more as Entreri calmly glared at him at the response. He cleared his throat and continued. "He had associates who were priests in Shar's church and we believe he was initiated into the priesthood himself, though he did not last long in it. He stuck around long enough to learn some of their magical methods and disappeared with a trail of dead Sharrans in his wake.

"Now to the point where you come in. Our intelligence has told us that Rylan Marn has been experimenting with the motley bits of dark magic he has accumulated over the past several years. I have taken a look at his activities and he is working on something that is highly dangerous to him and to the overall well-being of Faerûn. I do not assume you understand the nature of the Void, Master Entreri, but mages and scholars have known for centuries that pure Nothingness does not exist; it is an unending line of scientific opposites.

"My point is there are creatures and beings that reside in the cosmic void, some like the creatures on our planet some of a completely alien nature. Rylan Marn is using his magical knowledge to summon these creatures. To our knowledge he has already summoned smaller beings, those around the size of Friederich here."

Entreri looked at the homunculus scratching its head with the tip of its claw and cocked an eyebrow. How he hated wizards and their little toys.

"My scrying has revealed this success. Just a month ago he summoned a creature that resembled a moth the size of a bat, a creature I believe he lets fly around his castle. The only direction Rylan can go is onward. I believe he will try to summon a humanoid creature within the tenday, and from there we do not want to think on what he will do next."

"I assume that your request is to have Master Marn and his 'dangerous knowledge' released back to the Void or in the realm of whatever god will take them," Entreri said.

"In so many words, yes," Adolfus said. "His next attempt at a summoning will be at the next waning moon. I want you to arrive in time for him to do the summoning, then kill him and bring the creature to back here."

Entreri's eyes narrowed. He reached back and adjusted his ponytail, though his gaze never left Adolfus.

"You want me to be present for a bizarre creature of unknown power to be summoned from the black Void and you want me to capture said creature and bring it back here," Entreri said, pointing downward to emphasize his point.

"As I said, Rylan will only be summoning a humanoid," Adolfus said. "He will not summon something that is beyond his control and anything of alien power is still out of his knowledge. I will give you a spell to allow you to understand any language."

Adolfus reached in his desk and produced a long, metal tube inscribed with various sigils.

"I will also give you this," he said.

The high mage opened the top and pointed it at the homunculus saying a command word. A ray of light washed over the creature, shrinking it and sucking it into the tube.

"This can hold any creature up to the size of a bugbear," Adolfus continued. "It is an extra dimensional space and the creature will be comfortable in this environment and after you bring them back," he pointed the tube back at the desk and said another word.

Another ray of light projected forward and the homunculus reappeared in its original size on the desk. It squeaked at its master and scurried down the edge of the desk.

Entreri nodded. He had a few more answers, possibly a little more confidence in this mission knowing some of the parameters. That didn't mean he was entirely comfortable with the situation.

"If the creature does not come willingly, you have this," Adolfus said. "I will pay you 100,000 gold pieces for the job."

It was a generous offer, though Entreri knew he was in more of a position to bargain.

"I will do it for 150,000, I insist on receiving extra for magic tricks," Entreri said.

Adolfus scowled, though eventually nodded.

"150,000 gold it is, though I will pay you half now and the other half when you return with the creature."

"80,000," Entreri said.

"Fair enough," Adolfus said. "I will provide you with a map and a full set of instructions."

----------

The wooden doors of the order creaked behind him. Entreri looked back to see the robed apprentice through the crack before the door fully closed.

A map of the Western Heartlands was folded in his hand with the location of Rylan Marn's modest castle on the outskirts of the Forgotten Forest a thumbnail print on the parchment. A pouch containing 80,000 gold pieces worth of jewels and coin was in his belt as was the small metal tube he would utilize if his secondary prey was not as cooperative.

Entreri decided to set off for the Forgotten Forest at dawn, spending the night in Baldur's Gate to rest up and plan his tactics. It would three days travel on foot, though he had not yet decided if he would get a horse as he would be carrying potentially dangerous cargo he would not want to handle for too long.

Then again he was somewhat liking the idea of a challenge.

Entreri had been taking jobs like this a bit more often. Leaving his small guild in Calimport in the hands of a few senior members was an insane move, even those trusting fools who were more on the side of good-natured roguery then all out scheming. Treachery lurked in every heart and he could leave for a tenday to return to a hundred swords aimed at him.

He had been caring less and less of late; the prospect of being tied down grated on him a bit more. It was what many his age referred to as the "empty nest syndrome."

Khallis was happily learning songs and stories at New Olamn with his own little adventuring band (including Salmryn Do'Urden, the son of his father's one-time arch nemesis, though Entreri was more amused than threatened by that.) He hinted on many occasions he did not enjoy the idea of returning to Calimport's intrigues and dangers. Khallis' father did not see this as weakness or cowardice; it was practicality. Truthfully the elder Entreri was not a fan of seeing Khallis trapped in his father's old hell if he didn't need to be.

Entreri had no issues running the guild, or rather the motley collective of thieves and mercenaries, by himself. However, a future as a fat pasha confined to his quarters by personal comfort or fear of the outside world did not appeal to him either.

He had traveled all over Faerûn on thousands of missions, though now he wanted to do more of such work voluntarily and by his own terms. Maybe he wasn't meant to settle down, maybe taking on such missions as this was what he was meant to do and not what he was required to do in the past. Or maybe Jarlaxle rubbed off on him a little more than he cared to admit.

Regardless of who or what influenced it, Entreri's sense of wanderlust had grown stronger and he was taking missions like this on a more regular basis. It kept his skills honed and it made him learn more about various common localities for possible further threats or opportunities.

It wasn't as hard as of late, however, to just admit he needed the adventure.

A light breeze blew in off the Sword Coast and Entreri could hear the churning of waves a few hundred meters away. He grabbed the edge of his black cloak and walked for the main road to Baldur's Gate.

--------

He heard the words but did not remember them, nor did he remember the force compelling him.

Voices and forces floated around Nothingness every second and after six years he had learned to block them out.

What he did know was the searing burn in his chest and a pounding through his entire being.

He gasped for air, his eyes shooting open as the renewed rush of blood flooded into his veins.

He threw his head back, the shrill gasp rising to whimpers and at last a scream; his working lungs forcing air through his vocal cords as if getting out every unspeakable sensation and terror.

Long arms flailed, his back arched and he closed his eyes again giving another long scream.

It was all coming too fast; light flowed through his eyes, blood pounded in his ears, and his naked form felt a hard surface.

This was not residual sensations from memory; this was sensations of life.

The last sensation he knew was the stabbing pain through his heart and gasping for breath as the life drained from him. The last sight he ever saw was Light Yagami standing over him and grinning before the blackness took him.

His screams went back to whimpers and then a series of gasps. The initial reaction passed and his logic forced itself to the forefront as he asked himself a series of questions to make sure he was fully aware.

Name? Liam Lawliet. Code name? L, also Eraldo Coil and Denuve. Last alias? Ryuzaki. Date of birth? October 31, 1979. Place? Edmonton, Alberta, Canada. Last location? Tokyo, Japan. Last case? The Kira investigation.

His mind cleared a little more with each question and each realization. He forced his muscles to remain still against the violent shaking and desperately tried to control his breathing.

At last he opened his eyes, seeing a ceiling of wooden beams and the flickering of candles overhead.

A figure gradually came into view; the face of a man likely in his late 50's with close-cropped white hair and a neatly trimmed white beard.

"Can you hear me, my son," the man said in English with an accent L could not immediately place, though slightly British.

L nodded, his mind trying to grab any explanation as to what was going on.

"Where am I," L said softly, the words shaky though coming to him naturally.

"You are in my care," the man said, gently clasping his shoulder. "All will be explained in good time."


	2. Salutations at SwordPoint

**Two Mercenaries**

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters and settings from Forgotten Realms are the property of R.A. Salvatore/Wizards of the Coast and all recognizable characters and settings from Death Note are the property of Tsugumi Ohba, Takeshi Obata, and Viz Media.

**Chapter 2: Civility at Sword-Point**

Entreri seriously wondered for a moment if he was walking into a trap as walking into Rylan Marn's castle was suspiciously easy.

There were no barriers around the perimeter nor any sigils, out-of-place branches, or suspicious looking statues that would indicate any further protection wards or guardians. Entreri was simply able to sneak up to the castle, darting from tree to tree until he finally had a hand on the stone wall and an eye on a shuttered window.

This wasn't so much a castle as a grandiose cottage; a two-story structure with the hand-hewn blue granite and all the arches and crenellations of a castle yet significantly smaller in size.

It was easy to hop up on one high windowsill and carefully slice Charon's Claw's red blade between the wooden shutters; cutting through a flimsy layer of iron reinforcing the locks.

He had carefully opened the shutters and stepped into the building without incident. It was when he reached the hallway that all of his suspicions got a little louder inside his mind.

Even if this was just a laboratory, study, or inconspicuous hide-out, most wizards, especially those dealing in aspects of the Art that were far from polite, were exceptionally paranoid and kept their havens under a pile of wards, guardians, traps, and protective spells. Even the average noble would have some ward or golem near any openings or at the very least had a few armed guards at strategic positions if nothing else.

Artemis Entreri was now walking freely through the stone hallway of Rylan Marn's castle without having to deactivate any traps or having to put a dagger through the back of any guard.

This was too easy.

Entreri kept his back to the wall, only moving a few calculated steps at a time; his red-bladed sword in one hand, his jeweled dagger in the other, eyes scanning the hallway and muscles honed for any sudden movement.

Adolfus should have known better than to send him on a suicide mission; it should have been known by now the only one dying on suicide missions for Artemis Entreri were Entreri's intended target and his employer. Dealing with a wizard with strong knowledge of alien life forms, however, might have been a different matter, though he'd survived weirder.

Perhaps Rylan Marn was that stupid, or perhaps cared that much less.

Then again it wasn't unheard of that the casting of particularly complicated, powerful, and dangerous spells could result in any and all spells or magical items the wizard controlled to be diffused within that radius.

The chanting heard a few meters down gave a little more credence to that suspicion.

Regardless of what was going on behind that small door, what ill magic was being cast, and what alien creature was being summoned from the Void, this was the part where he entered the scene.

He lightly stepped up to the door, opened it with ease, and slipped into a glowing chamber.

---------

The man's face was calm, though his mouth gradually formed a large grin.

He let go of L's shoulder and grasped his hand, slowly pulling. L caught the signal and strained his muscles.

Every part of him ached and his head went back to the hard surface on which he laid for a moment as he grunted hard.

He took a few more deep breaths and strained his muscles again, looking up to see the man patiently gazing on him; his expression betraying some measure of glee.

His grip tightened on the man's hand and he allowed him to guide him to a sit, the ache gradually melting away.

The movement gave him a momentary head rush and he leaned forward to let the wave pass. He then lifted his head and opened his eyes, getting a view of the rest of his surroundings.

L was now sitting on a polished wooden bench of some kind. A series of candles in stands formed a circle around the room and a thin book was lying open on a table.

He took a careful look at it, seeing it too thick and too worn to be a Death Note, the opposite perhaps? No, there were no names written on the pages; only some type of geometric diagram and a series of indecipherable symbols. He made a note of it, though it was but one detail right now.

His look at the book took his vision to the walls, seeing them made of hewn stone of a variety similar to what would be found in a castle. The rest of the room was dark but he saw a wooden door off to the side of the circular room.

L looked back on the man, who gazed at him in awe; ring-adorned hands visibly trembling and mouth locked in a grin. It was like he was frozen to where he stood.

L masked his surprise to see him wearing a long, dark blue robe. A long silver chain hung from his neck on which an amethyst pendant in a plain silver setting rested. Several rings adorned his long fingers of various semi-precious stones and metal bands.

The initial attire suggested a tradition of paganism he could not pinpoint, yet the general surroundings made him further suspect a more involved occult practice; Hermeticism probably or even Golden Dawn or perhaps Crowleyism if he stretched.

Then again he could have been a generic occultist, but since when did any occult practice do some thing more than the alleged tales of conjuring noisy ghosts or spirits that gave exorcists their lunch money? Since when did people learn to bring other people back from the dead? Then again how the hell could a notebook kill people with just a name?

The full possibilities of this made his head hurt.

If Shinigami existed, maybe there were other forms of magic, or "magick" that were more than folklore, psychological extensions, or even murdering notebooks.

Even more unnerving, had this man had found a way to reverse the curse of the Death Note, bring those affected by it back to life? The man looked European, though maybe knowledge of the Shinigami and the Death Note was universal; maybe something else was going on.

Maybe he was never actually dead.

L mentally jotted down the many questions he would have to ask this man when he regained more of his bearings.

"First let's get some clothes on you," the man said, "the last thing we want is for you to get a chill.

L took a breath and nodded.

"I like the sound of that," he said.

The man gave him an enthusiastic smile and turned around and walked a few feet ahead, stopping at the row of candles.

He said a phrase that sounded like a cross between Latin and Arabic though L could not figure out the words. The man then clapped his hands, a blue glow flashing from the candles for a moment before they returned to their normal hue.

L stared at the candles for a moment, trying to figure out what just happened. A reaction of a chemical compound, or there were a series of flash bulbs nearby for added effect, that had to be it.

The man looked back, staring at L for a second before smiling and walking to the other side of the room toward a wardrobe hidden in the shadow.

L stretched his muscles a bit more, the ache gradually fading as his body readjusted to actual activity. He did not take his eyes from the man in the robe as he opened the wardrobe, rooting through a few garments of ambiguous shape hanging from wooden hangers.

Something then shifted from the side of the wardrobe; a shadow at first gradually taking a human form. A figure in a black cloak suddenly appeared and extended a gloved hand.

L saw the glint of a blade in a candlelight reflection and was about to yell as the blade disappeared into the robed man's back.

The man cried as he fell into the arms of the cloaked attacker, his face suddenly blanching as he struggled for breath and shook violently.

L leapt off the table, legs threatening to give out for a moment before he regained his strength. He looked toward the door on the other side and honed his muscles to dash, though not before looking back on the scene and getting a good look at the assassin under the cowl of his hood.

Dark, dead eyes were looking square into his. L place the assassin in his late 30's and likely of Middle Eastern descent, his face adorned with a black goatee and heavy stubble; expression perfectly calm. He took a quick glance at his belt, seeing what looked like a sheathed sword with a hilt in the shape of a skeleton.

L sprinted to the door, turning an iron thumb latch lock and shoving the door open. He was going to end up with a huge bruise on his shoulder but he almost welcomed it; the ache made him feel alive and further fueled him as he ran through the hallway.

Every muscle ached, his head felt light and his legs buckled a few timed though he continued. He would have to adjust to the sensations of life now or else lose them.

The first instinct was flight, though the fight would come soon enough. Raising his hands and surrendering the moment that figure in the black cloak with the nasty-looking sword caught up with him wasn't exactly the best idea.

He sprinted down the stone hallway, a few bright lamps hanging from the walls lighting his way as everything else revealed itself as he saw it.

The realization he was actually alive was still strong, though the nagging question remained of where the hell he was; or maybe when the hell he was.

There wasn't time for that now. His bare feet now reached a red rug, his bare back...and bare bottom periodically pressed against the wall behind the cover of a suit of armor here or a potted plant there.

He was being pursued; he had to remember that even though he did not see the figure run after him. Good assassins were always calm ones; L was being given a head start and men like this had no audible footsteps.

L turned a corner, seeing a wooden door left partially ajar. He peeked in, seeing no human activity but the walls decorated with many darkened items. He slipped into the room, closing the door behind him.

Torches on the wall suddenly lit, a development that made L jump though he had worse things to deal with now.

His momentary surprise cleared, L found himself staring at every manner of medieval weaponry hanging from the walls. Swords of every size were mounted on brackets beside daggers, morningstars, maces, crossbows, and even a few quarterstaffs leaned against the corner.

He stared at the display in awe, though a light, taunting knock on the door made him act. He had trained himself in the use of martial weaponry, though he never thought it was a skill he would ever need.

On instinct, he reached for a quarterstaff leaning against the door frame; the one weapon he had practiced with extensively including sessions against katanas, knives, throwing stars, and other weapons. He did grab a few of the daggers from the wall and placed them on a nearby shelf in case he needed them.

The door flew open and L stepped out of the closet, the top end of the staff connecting with the tip of the sword's red blade. A sliver of wood the size of a pound coin flew off and clattered on the floor.

He swung the other end of the staff, one small section meeting the sword before he disengaged and swung the other side.

Entreri parried low with minimal force to have his blade forced back with one swing. The kid gave a feint before driving forward.

He had to give it to him; this one knew what he was doing. Entreri gave a few more half-hearted feints to gauge what he was dealing with.

It was clear before though obvious now; the "creature," the humanoid life form allegedly summoned from the black void was a human and had yet to display any magic or powers.

He was scrawny, yet wiry with obvious muscle tone. This one was likely in his 20's, possibly late teens depending on how hard his life had been.

By his physique along with his pale complexion, wild black hair, and the heavy circles under his eyes, Entreri pegged this one for a back alley scrapper; a ragamuffin who turned what little food he stole or scraped off the street into muscle. He could have also been a sickly noble who developed some skills and muscle tone on days he wasn't confined to his bed

Then again this boy had been summoned from the Void if his employer had told correctly; any of Entreri's interpretations were likely meaningless.

He did know how to fight with a peasant's weapon, though Entreri was just amusing himself now.

The blade swung out, shaving off a little more of the quarter staff. L knew he was being played with. That was fine as long as he could get away from this individual.

The sword then connected with the center of the staff. Both ends were now separated in L's hands with a clean cut. L tossed them at his pursuer and ducked back into the closet, grabbing the pile of daggers and readying himself to throw a few and run.

A dagger flew past Entreri's head and bounced off the wall. Entreri had a second to nod at the good throw before swatting aside another tossed dagger then another then another.

The kid leapt from the closet, the tightening in his calves and the way he positioned his legs showed he planned on bolting again; utilizing the distraction with a few more daggers before running..

Play time was getting boring; there would be plenty of opportunities to test him further on the journey.

L aimed another dagger and took a step back, readying himself to spring.

A cloud…no, a wall of black ash suddenly washed in front of his face, catching him by surprise for a moment too late. A booted foot then slammed into his stomach, throwing him hard against the wall; the tip of a blade now gently pressing against his throat

L took a deep breath, half-heartedly putting his hands up; face expressionless. He scoured his memory banks for every phrase in Latin, Old French, and Old English he had learned but rarely practiced, though anything he said to this man was meaningless.

He was supposed to be dead anyway; hopefully this would be quicker and less agonizing than a heart attack though he didn't keep his hopes up.

"So you have me," L said in English, hoping this man understood as well. "What now?"

Entreri held the dagger for a second before smiling. He spoke Common; that was a nice development.

He pulled the tip of the dagger an inch away from L's throat though his quarry's expression remained cold.

"Welcome to Toril, sorry your host couldn't stick around," Entreri said.

Toril, the name was unfamiliar to L though he would probably learn it soon enough.

"A pity," L said, voice still even though his heart pounded through his eardrums, "though the more hosts I have the merrier I suppose."

"Do you have a name?"

"Tristan," L said, the first "medieval" sounding name he could think of. Tristan was a tragic character after all. "Now yours."

Entreri suspected the name was fake, but really didn't care. This kid had some balls and could have gotten interesting or annoying really quick.

"My, my, aren't we insistent," Entreri said.

"We are indeed, now let's have it," L said.

Entreri wanted to give him a glaringly false name and the back of his hand, but why bother. He needed a little reward for being human, speaking Common, and putting up at least a little fight.

"Artemis Entreri," he said. "And I am going to give you a few options. First off, your blood would only make me have to clean my blade. Second, you are nothing but a specimen to me that I have been ordered to bring back to an interested party. Now you can come along quietly and I won't rough you up, or you can come along in a manner you might find less pleasant."

L really didn't like the sound of any of this, though it was best to manage the situation as it unfolded. He wasn't exactly in a position to negotiate, though there were worse positions to be in right now.

"You drive a hard bargain, though I could use a walk," L said. This might answer more of his questions too. "Though my only request is clothes."

"Good, I'm tired of seeing your bare ass," Entreri said. "The master bedroom's down the hall."

Entreri grabbed L's shoulder and shoved him forward.

L was tempted to make a comment about the "bare ass" remark, though just walked forward, taking his comfortable slouch and bringing the tip of his thumb to his mouth.


	3. Sizing Up

**Two Mercenaries**

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters and settings from Forgotten Realms are the property of R.A. Salvatore/Wizards of the Coast and all recognizable characters and settings from Death Note are the property of Tsugumi Ohba, Takeshi Obata, and Viz Media.

**Chapter 3: Sizing Up**

His captive had the habit of putting at least one hand in a pocket, a belt loop, or the belt itself.

Entreri's eyes scanned every inch of wall front and back in the corridor leading to where Adolfus' map of Rylan Marn's small castle indicated a large master bedroom. His guard was high, especially with the lack of resistance he met coming into the castle; however he was analyzing the boy, the "specimen," just as carefully.

Within seconds of taking his march down the hall, the kid make to loop one thumb around his hip, but the thumb hit air close to his bare skin and casually straightened out as if being stretched. Entreri made note of it, though the way he curled the opposite hand inward and bit the top part of his thumb was a little curious as was the pronounced slouch he took.

It was a posture and mannerism usually taken by young children who were used to being beaten, though his demeanor was calm; visibly tense but calm and not skittish as he would see in the same children. This was also a common posture among many who were feebleminded, yet this one was quite articulate, agile, and wily.

Then again everyone had a reason to take odd habits, especially magic users and scholars. He made a note of that possibility as well.

The boy turned his head slightly to the side, though Entreri saw one gray eye clearly fixed on him for a second before his face went back forward.

L clearly saw the stern glare that had the same effect of a push forward. The mahogany door at the end of the hallway with the iron stars and moons on it must have been the master bedroom, but it seemed too far away for L's liking.

One hundred more steps meant one hundred more steps of silence; one hundred more steps where all the unanswered questions would collide with the mere realization he was now alive. The hurley burley was done, the battle was fought to whatever end, and the rest was an uncertain chain.

Now is the point where you start applying logic and you start figuring out what happened, he silently scolded himself; feeling even more embarrassed for having to prod himself to do the obvious.

Then again the obvious tended to slip from him when faced with that which was behind comprehension. Somehow his back hurt at the memory of his fall from the chair in the hotel room when the Second Kira said the word "Shinigami."

Somehow his chest ached at that exact word, a word he tried to finish as the air was cut from his lungs.

Say something, say something dammit, his mind frantically yelled.

"Since we're going to be in each other's presence for a while, what do you prefer being called," L said, realizing his voice sounded tenser than he would have liked.

If this question earned him an eloquent response or a kick up the rear, it would be the best thing that could have happened to him at that moment.

"You care about decorum, how nice," Entreri said. He paused for a second, seeing the door getting closer into view and readying his strategy once it was reached. "Master Entreri works fine."

"Master Entreri," L repeated with a nod.

"Master," now that was an interesting form of address. Considering the medieval surroundings he wasn't surprised though even more intrigued.

Finally something to think about besides death and the endless span of mysteries; he wanted to rejoice yet kept his gaze forward. He wanted to immediately follow that question with an inquiry about what year it was, though that could wait for when his pulse rate slowed a little.

The door was now a few meters away and L felt a calloused hand on his shoulder before his form was shoved to the side. Entreri pushed ahead of him, adding an extra shoulder shove for good measure.

Entreri glanced back to see the kid's mildly annoyed expression before focusing his attention back to the door; yet another test of who he was dealing with. He wasn't the easily offended type by appearances nor was he submissive to such gestures. His method was probably more brush off the inconvenience or hold a silent grudge and let the offenses build up for whatever purpose.

He carefully approached the door, eyes square on the lock before trailing around to the various decorations. Just because there hadn't been any resistance entering the castle did not mean traps weren't in other locations, or possibly all security measures were activated at the end of the ritual. He couldn't be too careful.

Entreri looked back again at his quarry, seeing a pair of large, creepy eyes trained on his every move and barely blinking.

He reached into his belt and produced a thread with a bone needle at the end he had prepared for traps like the one that had likely armed this door. One snap of the wrist and he could have his answer about the general state of the traps and locks in this building.

Entreri slowly slid the long needle on the side of the door over the location of the lock, a simple key mechanism embedded in the door.

L took half a step closer and carefully watched what he was doing. Threading a needle or a nail through a door and using a string to open the lock was a common trick, one famously used by one of his would-be successors in his bid to outdo him through murder and puzzles. It was a subject L tried to avoid under any circumstances, though it was his own thread right now between wherever he was and where he was before.

Curiously enough, why was this assassin decked out in the finest equipment using such a simple measure to open a locked door? Perhaps there were no lock picks here and this was the highest technology he could use.

Entreri dropped the needle, swinging the thread enough for the needle's tip to poke out on the opposite side under the lock. He was then aware of slight breath on the back of his neck and the body heat of someone literally an inch from him.

He carefully grabbed the tip of the needle, gently pulling it out and swinging his head to the side and coming face to face with the kid. The kid casually tipped back to give the two more distance, though their eyes were locked; his captive's face stony.

"Can I help you," Entreri said.

"I was merely observing," L said, knowing saying any more could be bad but then again his blood would only make him have to clean his blade. "And a little curious. I figured you would have a whole kit of picks."

It was an interesting question; this one knew something about picking locks, maybe he was more of the peasant inclination or maybe he was a filthy thief himself. Entreri made a note of it.

He looked back down at the lock, feeling the kid's gaze follow.

A yank on the string was followed by an electrical crack and a ball of white light. The kid jumped back about a foot, producing a wide smile on Entreri's face as he let the energy dissipate. He then tapped the door knob, feeling no residual static before grabbing it and turning it.

Entreri looked back at "Tristan" with a smile, seeing his brows raised and expression calm though he was breathing a little harder.

"I do actually," Entreri said, taking another careful look at the door before pulling it open without incident. "This is why I'm leading."

"Fair enough," L said with a nod.

Entreri let a glare linger before grabbing the boy by the arm and yanking him into the room. L was hardly pleased with the gesture but understood its meaning without taking it personally.

"That's probably one of several small traps set on every door, in every room of this castle not to mention the amount of gods know what lying in wait to kill you," Entreri said, taking a quick scope of the wide room before meeting Tristan's gaze again. "You see a door or any shiny objects do not even think of laying a finger more on them until I look at them first, got it?"

"Crystal clear," L replied.

It was probably best if he just followed. Master Entreri was a native of wherever he was; L just appointed him his guide and, if needs be, his shield.

Entreri's stiff tone helped filter some of the minor aggravation that at least one door had a simple lightening trap set now when he had been able to access the castle so freely. It could have meant that Rylan Marn only wanted to arm key areas or perhaps was that simple in his security. It would also mean that an army of golems would be bounding down the hall any second now that the wards were reactivated.

Or it could have meant he was expecting someone to enter the castle at the right moment and lowered the wards. That one possibility somewhat perturbed Entreri meaning he could have been walking into another trap or Rylan Marn's experiments were known by more people.

It really was none of his business what the dead wizard did in his studies or what plans he had when and with whom. However a three day walk back to The Third Order by himself or side-by-side with Tristan could be made inconvenient with unwanted company.

Then again what was Tristan going to be on this journey; a small creature in a magical tube or another captive he had to drag along? Maybe he could be useful somehow in this journey, but that would all have to be decided before they left the castle.

Entreri released his grip, sending L scrambling for a few steps before regaining his balance. Both paused for a moment, both sets of eyes scanning the large room with light blue painted walls.

L saw a king-sized bed in the center of the room with blue velvet pillow shams and a blue velvet comforter with white silk sheets. A standing mirror with a mahogany frame was in one corner, bookshelves filled with various leather-bound books lined one side of the wall with mahogany desk beside it. Three large mahogany wardrobes lined the other side of the room. Whoever this was had quite a bit of money and an obsession with one color.

There were no staves leaning against the wall, wands or bottles of potion on the shelves, open books on the desk, or any of the other characteristic signs to Entreri that this room was the master bedroom of a wizard. Maybe Rylan Marn kept his living space and his work space separate, which was a logical scenario.

L noticed quickly all three doors were partially ajar though not open wide enough to reveal their contents. Entreri noticed this too, walking directly toward the wardrobes and directly approaching one with a raised dagger. He tapped the door, which swung out wider in response and revealing numerous pieces of clothing hanging inside. Entreri took a closer glance at it before grabbing the side of the door and fully opening it.

"I'm sure there's something here you can fit into," Entreri said, moving to the second wardrobe and performing the same tests before opening it and revealing more clothing. "I'll give you five minutes."

Entreri walked to the third wardrobe, doing the same procedure without incident before stepping aside.

L gave Entreri a side glance for a moment before approaching the first wardrobe and opening the door wider. A row of what looked like cloaks hung from wooden hangers, a few sets of cotton stockings neatly folded on helves below. He wrinkled his nose for a moment before going back to looking around.

Hopefully one of these wardrobes contained a long-sleeved shirt of light material, though it was unlikely there were any jeans anywhere. This was a problem; L was obsessive about what he wore. Day to day he needed to be in a pair of baggy jeans and a loose white long-sleeved tee; he could tolerate any other attire for certain occasions but not for long. It always needed to be loose, light, and thoroughly cover his arms and legs.

The reality he would not likely find a pair of adequate undergarments here was another thought that made him rather uneasy. He looked through the shelf with the stockings, wanting to shout in glee when he found a cloth waistband. He took the white garment out, seeing the legs went to knee length though this was the perfect material for undergarments even if that was not their originally intended purpose.

He put on the leggings, breathing a sigh of relief at feeling somewhat covered. They were a little snugger than he preferred, but they would more than do.

The next mission was to find at least a decent pair of trousers. He moved to the next wardrobe, seeing shelves and shelves stacked with various styles of pants. A pair of blue pants near the middle of the wardrobe caught his attention. He pulled them out of the stack, feeling they were a heavy, course cotton; not denim obviously but close enough. He put his legs through them; they were indeed loose around the legs and the waist and closed with a buttoned fly, near perfect.

Entreri kept a close watch around the room but took a few glances at his captive out of the corner of his eye. Three wardrobes were now open; one row of luxurious-looking robes and soft leggings were untouched. He went through a pile of velvet and leather trousers and came out wearing a pair of plain cotton pants fit for common artisans or travelers. He was now digging through shelves of tunics, carefully putting aside the rich colors and silks and wearing a wide smile at picking up a light shirt of white linen.

This kid had free rein of a selection of the finest clothes. A person with a mind on the material would be grabbing at every piece of rich cloth they could get their hands on to wade in luxury or sell later at a high price. Tristan, however, was grabbing for the simplest of clothes. Not only that the clothes also looked a little too stiff and cumbersome to be the usual fashion of a monk or any other martial fighter.

Entreri was just curious now; this was not a man motivated by status but by practicality. That ruled out the theories that he was a noble, a street rat, or a monk and Entreri was more pegging him for a tradesman or a traveler.

Guessing what this one was all about was becoming a fun little game; Entreri realized he was seeing him as more a puzzle than a captive, but that wasn't a bad thing. He needed a little more adventure after all.

L went back to the first wardrobe, paring the rows of cloaks and finding shelf in the back of various boots and shoes. Everything here was made of leather; the simplest shoes barely looked to reach the ankles while the boots covered them completely. Then again sacrifices would have to be made.

"Master Entreri, what type terrain will we be walking over," he asked, looking back at him, adding a smirk. "And to add to that how long do you intend me to be walking?"

"Our path is mostly even terrain, some forest, expect a lot of rocks," he said, giving his own smug smirk. "I also intend you to keep your feet on every mile of dirt, gravel, boulder, and mud we go through. I'd advise you to pick something comfortable."

L simply nodded and turned his attention back to the closet. In Entreri's interpretation, the neutral expression maybe meant there would be no whining.

L went back in the closet, seeing a pair of black suede boots that went to mid calf. These would have to do. He slid the boots on his feet, taking a few steps; they were somewhat cumbersome around his ankles yet they were softer and more maneuverable than they initially appeared. He would just have to get used to these.

Entreri walked toward the first wardrobe, looking through the cloaks and robes and finding a dark blue cloak ideal for the early fall weather. He pulled it off the hanger and shoved it in front of Tristan.

"Get that on and let's get the Nine Hells out of here," Entreri said, throwing it on him and walking toward the door.

L took hold of the light wool cloak and looked at it with a cocked eyebrow. This was not going to be convenient.

"Is this really necessary," he asked.

"Yes, it's necessary," Entreri said, stepping back to him and glaring at him. It was like negotiating with a child. "Now put the damn thing on before I tie it around your neck."

"Yes sir," L muttered with a pseudo-polite smile. He waited until Entreri turned around before rolling his eyes.

He undid the pewter clasp and put the cloak around him, clasping it again. It was a bit cumbersome, though not too distracting. One more thing he would get used to, though this was also giving him more of a lead to some serious questions.

Entreri walked to the doorway, taking a cautious look into the hallway before walking out and hearing another set of footsteps behind him. Tristan was following behind, lagging back a few steps though that was more of a mild annoyance and a reason to keep a better eye on him.

"What is the climate of these parts," L said, putting his thumb back near the corner of his mouth.

It was an innocuous question, but then did Tristan know what "these parts" were?

"It's the end of Marpenoth close to the Feast of the Dead," Entreri said, looking back at his captive and seeing if any of those words registered. "We are near the forest of the Western Heartlands."

L tried to hide a sour expression at being rubbed the wrong way by the unfamiliar name; though Feast of the Dead sounded familiar. Marponeth was probably their way of saying "October;" such a conclusion was logical if Entreri demanded he wear a cloak. Maybe it was close to his birthday; that was a more than amusing thought.

As for "Western Heartlands," that could have meant anything.

"In other words bundle up," he said with casual confidence, though the scared deer look was in his eyes.

"You didn't understand a damn word I said," Entreri said, his eyes constantly scanning the hallway as they walked down.

"Beg your pardon," L asked casually, wanting this one to tell him more than L wanted to tell him.

"Look kid, we've got a long journey ahead of us," Entreri said, rolling his eyes. "Cut the shit; you're not from around here, you're better off just admitting that. I don't know what you are or where exactly you came from, but that is really none of my concern until it's made my concern."

By the looks of things so far he was right, but then he hadn't been out of this building let alone seeing if where he was resembled anything familiar. L knew he had nothing to lose by admitting that and doing so could get him more answers. If this was indeed some backwards village in the British Isles or someplace like that then he could easily find his way out of needs be. Then again where would he go; maybe the key to all of that was with this one.

"Fine," he said, his thumb coming back up to his mouth. "The 'what,' I assure you, is a plain human." Hopefully he knew the term "human;" humans in Tolkein's books called themselves "men." Then again in C.S. Lewis' books, humans were so rare they were hailed as the "Sons of Adam" and "Daughters of Eve." He really couldn't take any chances. "Though no, it looks more and more like I'm not from around here. Could you fill me in on those details?"

Entreri casually looked back and turned forward again, catching Tristan's irritated look.

"You are in the Prime Material plain," Entreri said, taking another glance back and seeing the kid perk up a little. "The planet is Abeir-Toril; we are on the continent of Faerûn in the Western Heartlands."

"What country are we in," L said, waiting to mentally sift through all the information when he had it.

"There are no political boundaries in these parts," Entreri said, "the nearest city-state is Evereska and none others for miles. All there is in between is forest, marsh, hundreds of hungry creatures that will descend on you if you go wandering too far off the path, and hundreds of not so nice people who will descend on you if you wander too far on the path."

"Lovely," L said.

"Stay beside me at all times and follow every direction I give you," Entreri said, seeing the scattered daggers and splintered quarterstaff on the floor from their last fight.

Another thought passed through his head that he initially wanted to wave off as stupidity but gradually became more tempting. The possible worst case scenario had already played out, though there could always be something worse than that. Then again this could be more entertaining and informative considering who he was dealing with.

"Have you seen any serious combat before?" Entreri asked, wondering how the kid defined "combat."

"One on one several times," L said, trying to catch the assassin's meaning. "No battlefield experience if that's what you mean."

Entreri didn't respond, only walking closer to the scene of their previous battle in front of the armaments closet.

"What date is it exactly," L said, a little annoyed with the sudden pause.

"It is the 13 day or Marponeth in the year of Dale Reckoning 1394," Entreri said boredly, leading Tristan toward the closet and readying his next move and preparing himself for all the possible reactions it would bring.

L put his thumb back between his teeth and bit a little harder. 1394? No, that couldn't be right.

This clearly was a different culture that marked their years differently. Year of Dale Reckoning, that explained it all right there; but it didn't explain the Abeir-Toril part.

Maybe this was another name for Earth in the English vernacular of a more primitive culture. Then again how could he be returned from death right back to some other country, or possibly some other time? Murdering notebooks and Shinigami existed didn't they?

Was it possible that he was on an entirely different planet, or maybe in another dimension? What exactly happened after death?

He remembered little; only long expanses of space, being conscious in some surroundings, in a dream state in others, while others he just blacked out. Maybe souls eventually recycle themselves through the multiverse, but then if he was here why wasn't it through rebirth?

A swift movement went in front of him and both his wrists were now in the grip of a gloved hand.

L looked up to see Entreri's cold expression as he was pressed into the wall, the assassin turning his attention inside the closet he was in before.

Dammit, he thought. He lost his focus on his surroundings while rapt in this hooligan's tale; he found himself vulnerable again, he forgot to see that move hidden in the corner at the right time, he didn't think about the Shinigami looming over him and how Light Yagami was going to…

L spun around, pivoting his bodyweight on his bound wrists and aimed a flying kick at Entreri's side. Entreri shifted out of the way but caught the tip of a boot against his shoulder, propelling him into the closet but hand still around L's wrists.

L took a crouch and kicked outward, feet missing Entreri but finally freeing his wrists. He spun upward on one leg, punching forward.

Entreri swung around; another quarterstaff in his hands and now spinning around L's wrist and soon landing in his face. L leaned his head back to avoid the blow, kicking his leg to the side to avoid the quarterstaff wrapping behind his knee. He dropped to the floor, one hand coming back. He shifted his weight and bent his torso back, exiting the closet in a backwards cartwheel. The cape got in the way for a second though he maneuvered around that quickly.

L jumped to an upright position and felt a staff push against his throat and a boot on his stomach. He tried to disengage but the staff only pressed harder and put him against the wall.

Entreri was simply staring at him with a plain expression for a moment, his wrists snapping and letting go of the staff. L's hands shot forward and caught it, only to see Entreri slide a meter back.

L's first instinct was to charge forward, but he stopped himself; Entreri was making no resistance, he simply let him have the staff. L took a few breaths, calming down and seeing Entreri give him a calm glare.

He was lucky to still be alive now; the thought passed through his mind almost immediately. His approach to his handler had been cool responses; predicting his next moves and trying to suss him out. Then he panicked; all logical thought going out the window in kicks blindly thrown at this individual who was heavily armed and had already bested him in a fight already. Entreri already said he had no interest in killing him (or something to that effect), but L opened himself up to it without a moment's thought. The reality frightened him.

Entreri just stood back and observed. As predicted, the kid didn't advance. The first fight had been out of self-defense, but Tristan backed down almost immediately when given the rules of engagement. In the past few minutes he had been cooperative, cordial even though not sparing snark.

This little outburst was too clumsy to be an escape attempt; Tristan seemed to rely more on logic and a tarnished silver tongue. This was probably an immediate self-defense reaction, likely tied to something deep.

He grabbed him by the wrists; that had to be it. The kid was either caught off guard by the action and panicked or the feeling of being restrained made him lash out for some reason. This was just getting more and more interesting

Entreri was now analyzing every pained and defeated expression from a meticulous creature who just lost his iron-clad self control. The sight was amusing and sickening at the same time.

"Baby done his tantrum," Entreri said. "I was going to let you carry that, but now I might just take it away of you're going to be like that."

L gently swung the staff in one hand, Entreri stood still with his arms crossed just waiting for him to charge. Instead he let one end drop to the floor with a hollow wooden clank; expression firm as if to say "that's that."

"Are we going to behave ourselves now," Entreri said.

"My apologies," L said with a nod though his expression still blank. "I was caught a little by surprise."

"I figured," Entreri said, taking a step up to L and leaning in his face. "Try not to let it happen again."

He had been warned.

L nodded. Entreri kept a glare on him for a second, getting a calm, unblinking glare in return.

Entreri slowly turned around and walked back down the hallway; pleased to hear footsteps behind him and see a figure casually walking in his peripheral view.

---------

The pouch in his belt vibrated slightly; he looked down to see a familiar hint of glowing purple from the object inside.

"Oh bloody hell," Markus muttered, rolling his eyes and reaching into the pouch for that damned mirror.

"What the Hells does she want now," Oris said between bites of his sausage.

Markus opened the mirror, the glass showing a dark purple mist for a moment before the face of a middle-aged woman appeared. Her red hair was pulled back in that usual tight bun in a silver cage, though she was in her more casual black dress.

"Greetings, Madam," Markus said with a forced smile.

"Sorry to interrupt," Lady Arielle said, her expression showing she was anything but. "It has been twenty-four hours since your company left; I am merely looking for a status report."

"We cleared The Fallen Lands with minimal issue," Markus said, brushing a strand of blond hair out of his face, "well minimal issue for us at least."

"Them traders had lotsa issues," Darvey said from the side with a goofy laugh along with his twin brother Davey.

Markus shot him a glare but let a small smile sneak out.

"Markus tell your men we want to bring minimal attention to ourselves, this is a rather sensitive mission," her ladyship said, the lines around her mouth getting deeper.

"Oh believe me we're being more than quiet," Markus said. "I say we have a hundred miles until Marn's little cottage, we'll make it there in less than a day by my estimate."

He looked up and shot all four of his men pointed glares before looking back down at the mirror; that was an order not an estimate. Arielle's stern expression softened; a tiny smile managed to creak out.

"Bear in mind Rylan told us the wards were significantly lowered, though don't believe that for a second," she said.

"I have the spells you sent along and Aldo the Magnificent is saving some head space," Markus said, looking at the resident sorcerer meditating under a tree and looking like he was ignoring the conversation. He wasn't and the cocked red eyebrow told him.

Her ladyship simply looked at him in one of those pseudo-affectionate gazes she was fond of.

"You know you didn't have to take this job," she said. "The difficulty level is rather high."

"And so is the amount of coin," Markus said. "Sod the 'difficulty.'"

"I'm very pleased to hear that," Arielle said. "And oh yes there will be much coin for this mission; though don't be too rough on our special guest. Someone will be very disappointed otherwise."

Markus rolled his eyes.

"Thank you madam, I know how to do my job," he said.

"Then I will leave you to it," she said.

The purple mist returned and faded. Markus was now looking at his refection in the mirror.

He plucked a stray hair from his goatee and sneered at the mirror before folding it and putting it back in his pouch.


End file.
